✿ Sweet Merciful Crap & other things! ღ

Um, Excuse me? Are you going to finish that?

2011-03-15T09:06:00.002-04:00

(a/k/a Holy Guacomole!)

Prompted by the Red Dress Club: RemembeRED : This week, we'd like for you to write about your favorite fresh fruit or vegetable. Share a memory of when you first tasted it, where it came from, when you last had it, a favorite way to prepare it, and such.

I remember being uncharacteristically nervous.. I felt a sudden, all consuming warmth come over me starting at my face and ending at the very tip of my pinky toes. Yes, even the wee little piggy toe had succumbed to the fear. My heart was fighting to stay in my chest while my brain tried to overcome the weakness in my hands, much like an allergic reaction, except for the fact that I hadn’t eaten it yet!

It was crazy, I knew that. What could possibly be so intimidating about tasting a new food? And such an exotic, sexy one at that. What was happening to me? I've never backed away from a challenge. I’m always game, often even excited to try new things, broaden my horizons. It’s a darn fruit. Or vegetable? I didn’t even know that, nor did I care. I was more concerned with this strange and overwhelming sensation and determined to gain control of it. After all, what’s the worst that could happen, I casually spit it into my napkin? Excuse myself from the table and daintily dart for the ladies room and ever so quickly yet, oh-so-nonchalantly, purge it from my system?..

The fact is, that is EXACTLY what I was afraid of! I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t from fear of embarrassing myself, because it was, partly. But more importantly, more worrisome to me was that I might embarrass him.

Allow me to elaborate.

We were dining in a Mexican restaurant. Not just any Mexican restaurant, it was gorgeous, classy and crowded! A large portion of that crowd consisting of my future husband’s (him) family, many of whom I had not met before.   Funny, I didn’t worry about having too many margaritas (truth is I knew I wouldn’t be alone there), or overbearing onion breath or even spilling the very red, very spicy salsa on my bleached white blouse (which I thankfully did not). No, it was just this unknown, this new oddity, this AVOCADO. The restaurant was known for their homemade, table-side guacamole. So, naturally, “Guacamole all around!”    Yay!       Not.

Frankly, there were a lot of things that confused me about this odd little fruitegetable.. It was a gruesome looking thing on the outside, dark-green and pimply, not round, not oval; the smell neither sweet nor sour, the texture neither soft nor hard. How do you form an opinion on something so…. So, complicated!?

Admittedly, it tempted me, as I watched the first of many volcanic stone bowls erupt with the medley of ingredients. First the minced red onion which stung my nose and brought a tear to my eye but, curiously, did not seem to affect the preparer in the least…followed by the vine-ripened tomatoes which snapped as they were diced assuring us of their freshness. Next the serrano chilies, the "fire" of this tantalizing concoction, a pinch of salt, a dash of pepper and trickle of lime juice. So far, so good... my jowls tightened, my taste buds tingled, my belly yearned for the deliciousness before me... then came the Avocado....

Sliced in half, pit removed, the leather-like skin peeled away. I was amazed at how the Guac-chef effortlessly sliced and chopped the pieces into exact, symmetrical cubes (you fellow OCDers can appreciate my amazement). The mixture was tossed meshing the flavors, colors and fragrances, appreciatively disguising the avocado, hiding it among those elements with which I was more familiar, more comfortable. Maybe I can do this, I thought. Then came the chips; the crisp, warm, crunchy tortilla chips, so fresh you could see the wisp of heavenly goodness rise to the nostrils of each person as if with a mission, captivating their senses and drawing them in.   One by one, the other family members, as if hypnotized, proceeded to feast on the chips and dip. The restaurant became silent as one diner after another fell under the dishes spell. Here's my chance I remember thinking. While everyone is distracted, I can steal a bite and easily cover my dissatisfaction if I don't like it.

*Nibble, nibble... gobble!* Amor! It was all it had promised to be and more.. a gift from the gods, a flavor to be savored, my eventual obsession.. It had it all; a firm, hearty, spicy bouquet of goodness. One might refer to it as "the Johnny Depp of snack foods". It satisfied every craving ~ the hotter the better!

I often think about that night, and how fear almost prevented me from discovering a fabulous delicacy. "He" is now my husband (of 23+ years!) and I find it much easier to embarrass him Wait, that came out wrong.... I'm much ~~older~~ wiser and more confident now. Most nights my head is so buried in the bowl I barely notice him enter the room...... unless he reaches for a chip! ;)

I eat it so often I've earned the title "Hot Queen Momma" (or is that because of the flashes?, hmmmmmm..) ;)

♪♫Ole ole - ole ole / Ole ole - ole ole
So we go rum-bum-bum-bum
Yeah we rum-bum-bum-bum
Feeling hot hot hot -- Feeling hot hot hot ♫♪

You're invited to my birthday party! I'm going to be ...

2011-03-01T19:15:00.001-05:00

This weekend is my birthday.

I will be humbledygrum.

What's that?

Oh?. It's my humbledygrumth birthday.

Damn interwebs.

hum-     ble-      dy-      grum!

yea, 21!

Aw c'mon now, there's no need to go looking at my picture, just take my word ...

I've got mixed emotions about it. Honestly. Does anyone like getting older?

Granted. When you think about the alternative, getting older certainly beats not getting older.
{Amen, to that!}

Those of you who aren't aging as gracefully as say, moi, might have a different opinion.... but for the most part, I think we can all agree. Getting older beats not getting older, provided there isn't an option of getting younger which, shit, you'd be an idiot not to choose! You can call me Mrs. Benjamin Button and smack me on the bottom!

Really? Could you imagine?!
Although I don't know if I'd want to go through that whole spitting up and wearing diapers again....... ?! (perplexed look)

{"Circle of Life" music playing now}

Clearly that's not an option, so forge ahead I shall.

The festivities will begin the day before my birthday. My girlfriends are taking me out to celebrate. We do this for each of our birthdays and this being my humbledygrumth (many of them having already reached that plateau, *sticking out tongue*), it is even more special.

For this "special" birthday we each get a diamond necklace from all the others. Not really sure which one of us thought up that bright idea...

"I know! Let's buy eachother glitzy, sparkly necklaces when we turn humbledygrum so we can draw even more attention to our necks (yes, "neckS"), which, much like rings on a tree bark can accurately tell a woman's age."

Awesome!

Asses.

But far be it for me to break tradition so, this Friday night, I will suffer the humiliation of being given a beautiful diamond necklace from some of my closest, dearest girlfriends, followed by an equally degrading ceremony with food and wine and ending with our surrender to a cake which, no doubt, will ooze chocolate from every slice. The things we do in the name of friendship.

I knew this day was coming so I married a younger man (well, a year younger) in the hope that he would keep me youthful. He'll be humbledybum a week later. Truth is, he's much ~~more mature~~ crankier than I so I turn to my children to keep me hip to what is still groovy and rad.. Clearly it's working....

For those of you who don't know, I am a twin (as is my husband but this is my story not his). Yes, I have a twin brother who is 3 minutes older than I (as is my husband's twin, but again, my story, not his) and I take solace in that fact. What do you mean 3 minutes isn't a lot? Shut up!

As twins, ~~I have no choice but to share the limelight~~ we naturally celebrate together with the family. No matter how not young we get, there's always a party! (Yay!) A feast starting with appetizers aplenty and ending, every year, with an incredibly moist and creamy, Strawberry shortcake. My absolute least favorite flavor. Don't ask. Quite honestly, though, I think I would be disappointed if it didn't. The night will include stories of our younger years; how sweet and little we were; how we used to dress in matching outfits; how my older brother asked for a boy and my sister asked for a girl and, unbeknownst to anyone, including our parents, Surprise, Baby #2, me, arrived, there was one of each!

So, despite what I feel about it, this birthday will happen in grand style, thanks to some wonderful friends and an amazing family. And, while I can certainly think of a few reasons to dread it, there are more reasons to look forward to it!

Let the partying begin!

♪ Do the Hustle! ♪♫ Doot doot doot de doot diddy doot doot
Doot doot doot de doot diddy doot doo, Doot doot doot de doot diddy doot doo.....♫♪

Are you one? Are you two?............Are you humbledygrum? STOP!

Forgive me Nanny, for I have Blogged ("Nanny" being strictly ficticious of course! he, he ..... he?)

2011-02-26T09:57:00.001-05:00

I realize the natural course, having just written about my Uncle Don, who was married to my "Nanny", would obviously be to write about her next. And I have decided to do just that. But only after some long, hard soul-searching, heart breaking and garlic wearing meditation.

You see. I love{d} my Nanny, bless her soul (if she had one) (Ooops, did I say that outloud?). But she was an acquired taste. Much like hot sauce on a sardine sandwich with a side of pickles. Very few people ~~liked~~ understood her. She was what one might refer to as ~~a bitch~~ stoic.

Oh she could be very funny, quite entertaining and always, ALWAYS, fashionable. Not a hair, button or crease out of place (they wouldn't dare!). One might even say she was ........ conceited.
Forever, the Belle of the Ball.

Even if it was someone else's Ball.
Two days after my mother showed her the dress she was wearing to my wedding as the MOTHER OF THE BRIDE...
My Nanny?
Get this.
My Nanny went out and bought a dress The. Exact. Same. Color!
AS THE MOTHER OF THE BRIDE!!!!!
1, 354,980 colors and patterns out there and she chose this one.
Funny thing. No one was surprised!

That was "Nanny". And no-body no-thing was ever going to change her.

But she was MY Nanny and I was her grandchild and in our sheltered little moments in time, it was wonderful.

Mostly.

Before I go any further, and while I certainly don't believe in evil ghosts, or people coming back from the dead, or say Satan's bff (whose resemblance to my grandmother is uncanny) casting spells or such, I do want to point out that this post is strictly fictional. (There, pretty sure I've covered my ass *nervous laugh*)

It wasn't until I was much older that cousins, aunts and uncles felt it appropriate enough to discuss things in front of me. It wasn't that she was a bad person. In fact, if you were family? As the Matriarch, she made sure you were treated quite well. After all, you were her ~~soldiers~~ underlings, her successors, her legacy and, as such, you would be trained appropriately to represent and protect her Kingdom and you would eat and dress accordingly.

In fact, that's what it was.
If I had to put a finger on it.
She had her idea of what was right and there would be no discussion, no debate, no argument.
That was that!
Period.

She had this thing about hair.
Actually, looking back. It would probably be considered an obsession today.
Every time we visited her, could have been twice in one week, she would "trim" our hair. Bangs were a must, like them or not. As I type this it sounds a bit "Mommy Dearest" and, quite frankly, is beginning to shed a little light on some of mine and my siblings ~~twitches~~ mannerisms; but, at the time, it was just Nanny.

When she wasn't cutting my hair, she was combing and "styling" it. Her favorite "do" requiring her to gather all my Nanny-imposed bangs, twiiissstttt them together and pulllllllllllll them waaaaay backkkk with a very pretty, but sharp clip. It didn't hurt, it was far too numb to, so for the rest of the day that's how I wore it, wide-eyed and smiling (two natural side-effects when the hair on the front of your head is bobby-pinned to your butt!) In fact, I'm fairly certain I am the inspiration behind all those " Mommy, mommy, my pigtails are too tight" jokes. Only it wasn't pigtails. I shudder to think what would have happened then!
Run piggies, run!

Oh! and she sang!
A lot.
Not at home, or in the shower, or the church choir.
No that wasn't random enough.
It was usually in a crowded car, or the mall or in the middle of a wedding reception.
Yes, you heard me, a wedding reception. Apparently she didn't think the band could hold it's own, or perhaps she sensed that they wanted her to sing?! For whatever reason, one second she was sitting at the dais chit-chatting away and the next? Let's just say we still don't know what ninja move she used to get the microphone but it entailed traveling over 3 banquet tables, a set of drums and an ice sculpture. And before anyone knew it, there she stood belting out the song "Mary", not-so-coincidentally, the brides name. A song no one had ever heard before, or since.

If it was raining? "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head";
Easter? "In your Easter bonnet" ...
Don't recall what theme accompanied our haircuts.......
..............................................perhaps "Sweeney Todd"??????

To shave-a da face, to cut-a da hair
Require a grace, require da flair;
For if-a you slip, you nick da skin,
You clip-a da chin, you rip-a da lip, a bit
Beyond-a repair!

Quit yer squirming and get in the dang pot!

2011-02-25T12:12:00.001-05:00

I'm going to start with my "Uncle Don".

My stories!?

You know the one's I promised you. The one's that were rekindled when my mother, sister and I started reminiscing?!

Those stories that I dangled in front of you and for which you've been waiting with bated breath?

Oh, I see, you're playing it cool, like you're too busy doing other things that you completely forgot. Okay, I'll play along...

Nevertheless, I do have a story, more like a summary for you about my Uncle Don.

For starters, he wasn't my uncle. He was my grandfather.

Actually, he wasn't really my grandfather either, well not by blood at least.

"Uncle Don" was my "step" grandfather on my maternal side and in every other sense of the word, having never met my "real" grandfather (who was a wonderful and debonair gentleman I am told) he fit the bill and then some.

Let me give you a second to comprehend that. It can be a little confusing. I won't even get into the explanation behind my mother's "Uncle Brother", not that I could if I tried.

No, we're not from the Deep South.
Yes, we do have all of our teeth.
And, "roadkill" is not the meat du jour. At least not knowingly.
We just aren't very imaginative when it comes to naming relatives.
Apparently.

My Uncle Don was my mother's stepfather married to her mother, "Nanny" that I told you about in my last post who would have been 101 this month...remember now? He was a living saint, a characteristic that was not only commendable, but necessary in order to be married to "Nanny", trust me. Suffice it to say, they complimented each other which could only be explained by the phrase "opposites attract". (Either that or the "medal" he wore around his neck was in fact a shock device, we'll never know).

Uncle Don was a man's man. The type of man that spit nails, ate onions like an apple and could lift two times his body weight, with one hand massaging "Nanny's" ~~bunyons~~ feet. This manliness naturally made him attractive to the ladies too, minus the onion breath... and maybe the nails.... . But you get the idea. He was not only strong but sweet and handsome. Not in the suave Cary Grant kind of way, more like the macho John Wayne style, chiseled, broad features and the bow-legged walk. He sported a buzz cut that I'm certain could have served as a table it was so evenly chopped, flat. His skin was hardened from all the sun exposure while working in construction and landscaping (and possibly a side effect of the "shock device"). His voice was deep and hoarse from years of smoking, an innocent habit at that time.

He loved to please. Your wish, was his command. If it could be done, he would do it. My mother often tells of stories where she would show him a picture in a magazine of a bookcase, or built in beds and as if by magic they were built. Only it wasn't magic, it was skill and planning and determination (and quite possibly fear of the wrath o' "Nanny"). All the other men watched in awe, offering their help when they could, but mostly assisting and observing. I think about him now as I delve out the money to the contractors....

But he wasn't all work.. Nooo, Uncle Don liked to have fun. I can picture him now. Everything from the beret on his head, to the Charlie Sheen style shirt, to his slacks, shoes and socks ALL THE SAME EXACT COLOR! and real colors! like yellow and red... I'd see that now on a man and probably laugh, but on him, back then, I smiled. Every time.   I think I would have been disappointed if one day he didn't match.

And he did this dance. I can close my eyes and still envision it. Not sure I can do it justice with words. Kind of like a shuffle-boogie-two-step, that only he could do. And we laughed. With him. Not at him.    It was as though someone was cracking a whip at him and he had to jump to avoid it ...... hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Uncle Don had that kind of invincible Popeye strength that made it even harder to believe when he had died. But he left an impression so strong you can't help but smile at his thought! ;)

"A-gah-gah-gah-gah-gah-gah!"

Warm feet ~ Warm thoughts ~ Warm heart

2011-02-24T11:53:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting here in my newly decorated home office, on my newly acquired, yet already favorite,french-inspired blogging chair, just hours after stepping (cautiously tip-toeing really) back into Blogdom.

My Pomeranian is at, well on my feet, sweetly sawing wood while he sleeps.  I had left the television on in the living room when I got up to plug in my laptop thinking I would then return to watch some more, only to get involved in typing, not to mention the whole pup-on-feet detail.

In between the experimental melodies being played on his piano, sorry "keyboard" as he often corrects, and his infectious, intermittent laughing, undoubtedly the reaction to some ridiculously bizarre joke that no parent could possibly understand (or would want to for that matter),  I can hear my son upstairs clearing his throat from a cold that has held on far too long because of the constant punch from this Winter's winds that never seem to cease. 

My cellphone vibrates as it slowly travels across my desk.  It's my daughter texting to say goodnight.  She is staying at a friends house while her family is out of town, because that's what friends do, despite having worked that morning and attended classes well past 8:00 pm. She is twenty years old and still, every night without exception, says goodnight and I love you, not only to her father and I but also to her 16 year old brother, even if he annoyed her that day.  She is a little less consistent with her "11:11 make a wish" texts, phone calls or loud announcements which has become an event with our family, but she tries.  Hey, you never know!  Who am I to pass up a chance to make a wish? 

I've done something right.

My husband isn't here.  But this is not unusual.  He works very hard.  For me.  For our children.  For us. And, as such, is often required to travel for days at a time.  I joke about it some days.  How lucky I am to have my home, my time, to myself.  And.  Sometimes it's less joke and more "Ahhh".  But always, I miss him. 

Every so often there's a jarring thump reminding me of the other four-legged inhabitants of our home, the cats, who find it necessary to run marathons around the house just as everyone else is winding down.

Earlier in the evening I met my mother and sister for dinner. Call it coincidence or just plain odd (the latter is always a safe assumption), but we all had the same craving and decided, with little hesitation, to meet at a favorite restaurant. Just the three of us.

As luck would have it, we arrived just in time to be seated before the crowd, ordered our much-anticipated nachos and wine (yes, surprisingly, they do compliment each other quite nicely) and comfortably ease into conversation. Mom reminds us that it would have been our Nanny's (grandma nanny, not Mary-Poppins nanny, although she did have a few tricks up her sleeve) 101st birthday which took the natural course and started us reminiscing of days gone by; the good, the bad and the ug-.. actually for purposes of our family, it would be more accurate to replace "ugly" with, oh I don't know, "quirky"?, "peculiar"?, "wacky"? .. all meant endearingly of course, most of which I wouldn't change!

You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back. ~William D. Tammeus

As you can imagine, the reflection conjured up many different feelings and, lucky for you, or not depending on how you look at it, a few good stories which I intend to share! This blog is, for me, a way of passing and in some ways, freezing time, not to mention a mental activity to slow the course of age-induced stupidity, but if you'd care to join me on my merry-go-round*, I promise always to wave back! ;)

_____
* I feel obligated to tell you at this time that sometimes I suffer from motion sickness. No worries, just choose a pony behind me.. unless there's a strong wind then you might want to go a few rows back. I'll still wave though ;)

Getting back on the bicycle.. please run along side me. Just. In. Case. ;)

2011-02-23T15:53:00.000-05:00

Removing my sock and poking my {beautifully manicured} toe in to the bath of blogdom, to check if the temperature is right... if the time is right...just a little dip, not a major douche (the water! not me!)

I've been gone a while. Creepily lurking via Twitter and Facebook, reminding you of my omnipresence in witty snippets of 140 characters or less because that's easy. That's what she said. :: waving my imaginary Groucho Marx cigar as I do::

I've been tempted before but, alas, when I sat my little fanny down in my french-inspired blog-writing chair (keep the doubting comments to yourselves, you have no idea what size my tukus is!) and flexed my fingers to promote sufficient blood flow for extensive literary genius, I froze. A deep humming filled the void in my head where my brain used to be, panic (or alzheimer's) set in and I drew a blank, not literally because if you think about it, really, there is no way to "draw" a blank...

Oh, and I tried. Over and over again, sometimes stimulated by the comedy that is my life, often prompted by other blogs that tugged at my creative juices (you might have another name for it) and frequently ~~always~~ provoked by a glass ~~or 3 ....or bottle~~ of the finest Merlot $6.00 can buy. To no avail.

So why now Queen Momma? you ask yourself. Oh, you didn't? Well, do it now, I'll wait:

"So. Why. Now. Queen. Momma?"

Ahhhhh, very good question my erudite readers. (I'll give you a minute to look that word up in the dictionary)..... Done? Ok, I return now because, aside from my running out of rooms to decorate and redecorate (my chosen replacement obsession to fill the creativity void) and my husband's running out of patience with my decorating frenzy, I said to myself:

"Queen Momma,"

Yes, I call myself Queen, THAT's how royal I am ;) ...

"Queen Momma," I said
"It's time. You either have to Sh*+ or get off the throne."

Yes, you heard me correctly.

I said " S. H. Asterisk. Plus sign! "

I was tough on myself.

It was the only way to be!

"It might not be easy.." I went on.

"Much like riding a bike. The wheels will be wobbily at first. You might be too ~~lazy~~ tired to do it very often in the beginning..." I continued...

"But you've got to take the bull by the horns, take the bit between your teeth, dive in with both hands......"

Wow, I never realized I was so long-winded. Shut up already Queen!!!!

And, for now, that is what I am going to do. Shut. Up. With the ~~threat~~ promise that I am back. Not sure of a posting schedule, or topics or anything other than that I missed it (and you!) and I'm back. [almost sounds like I had some sort of consistency before, doesn't it? :) ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

*p.s. I have received fabulous reports from the Dr. and feel terrific!
To quote him:
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were normal!"

~ Boy, have I got him fooled! ;)

My latest decorating project, my home office :)

Where all this genius happens! lol

Queen Momma's starring in her own reality show!

2010-10-20T14:58:00.001-04:00

People have been asking me why I haven't blogged in a while... I've been asking myself the same question. Has my brain turned to mush? Is my life that boring that I can't think of anything to write? And, if it is, don't I even have the imagination to make something up?

Admittedly, my brain is not what it used to be... factor in 2 teenagers, inevitable advancing age and my love of wine and it's understandable. As far as boring? I've got more of a social life now than in my youth, thanks to some very entertaining and adventurous girlfriends. And for imagination? Have you read my blog? ;)

Funny thing is. (Not funny haha; funny, odd) I started this blog so I'd have a place to vent, share, release...and now, when I need to most, I'm finding it tough (tough as in difficult; not tough, chewy, because that wouldn't really make sense. Unless of course I was to print this out and ....)

Truth is....I've been going through a rough patch. I've been in a funk... f-u-N-k.. so if your "key-word" search brought you here by accident, this might be a little disappointing to you....

......A long, creepy, unwelcome, annoying funk. And it has turned me into something I don't want to be...Someone I don't recognize. A Queen Jekyll and Hyde.

I've joked about. Hinted toward it. Even declared myself a super-hero that is mightier than it.

But. Sometimes. My reality gets the best of me.

I'm sad.

I have so much to be thankful for. I am truly one of the luckiest woman in the world.

I should be happy just to be alive, right? But instead I want more! I want to experience and do everything now, just in case.... I'm angry that with all that is out there to see and do and feel, Cancer has stolen from me that permission to desire, seek and attain.

I have no patience, no tolerance... Does that make me ungrateful? selfish?

Enter the guilt.

The thing is. I've had the wind knocked out of me. Sometimes the reality just throws you for a loop. And. No matter how hard you try, it creeps up on you. Hits you with a sucker punch. Turns your laughter to tears. And dares you to get up again!

But you do. And days, weeks, months go by and you believe you have conquered it. Beat it. But then. The room darkens. The silence is deafening and the air becomes stagnant. You can frantically run around turning on all the lights. Blare happy melodies. Light a beautifully scented candle. But. Despite all your efforts to stop it. As life would have it. Reality hits again.

As life would have it.... that's the part you need to focus on!

I'm certain it's temporary. I've been here before and it will pass.

It being October, Breast Cancer Awareness month; having just done the Walk; and today being my late brother's birthday has put the "real" in reality. My reality.

I'd be naive to think that I could put it all out of my mind totally. Just go on like before. Boy, how I wish I could. Unfortunately, that's not an option. So, I let myself feel. Breath deep so as to prevent my heart from breaking. Try to fight back the tears that eventually win the battle. Apologize, even though I don't have to and pick myself up. Forge ahead.

I'll be fine. Of that I'm certain. After all, I don't have to eat a jar of crickets, or lose 100 lbs in a week, or sing in front of Simon Cowell. I just have to remind myself that I am only human. And to feel, even if it hurts, is a part of life!

Bare with me.

I'll be talking about dog farts and zombies again before you know it!

Trust me, it's a big deal!

2010-10-09T09:52:00.005-04:00

My children. Well, not children anymore. My babies! Yes, always my babies.

My daughter. Beautiful. From the moment she was born. Truly. Those pursed lips. That thick dark hair. Those brown, nigh black, hypnotizing eyes. The olive skin. One adorable dimple. A more beautiful baby you never saw. And. Today. More beautiful than ever.

My son. Well, if we are being honest. He was such a skinny baby. 5 lbs. 12 ounces. 21 1/2 inches long. Picture in your head a chicken being prepped for dinner. Sounds mean. I know. But remember, we are being honest here. Now? Now he is 6' 1" and growing. Eyes that if used properly (for good, never evil) could captivate and manipulate even the strongest will. A smile that warms. Hair, that while longer than I prefer, but apparently necessary for the "musician" status, full and gorgeous. Handsome.

Yes, boisterous as it may sound, I have to say, the combination of Prince Charming and I resulted in some good looking babies ;)

But that was the easy ~~and fun~~ part. Then comes the beauty within. The making of a good person. A responsible, caring, good person. That part, not so easy. Definitely not always fun.

You can plan, scheme and child-rearing-book away. But Life happens. Plans are changed. Schemes fall through and books? Well books can give you ideas, guidelines, suggestions, but no two children. Even from the same family. Are alike. No. The only way you can successfully parent. In my opinion. Is from the heart. Deep within your heart.

In many ways my children were spoiled. The only grandchildren (or neice/nephew for that matter) on both sides for years. How could they not be? Summers were spent in an affluent beach community because their grandparents had the foresight to purchase a home there before its popularity sent the prices skyrocketing. Fortunately, their father is successful enough that I, their mother, was able to stay at home during their childhood, enabling them to accept every party invitation, have oodles of play dates and, if necessary, be picked up from school, heaven forbid they had the sniffles.

Chores? Yes, there were age appropriate chores. Always. Granted the dusting had to be redone, the beds remade and the weeds, well pulled, but they were learning and that's what was important. We made charts around the holidays with stars and black marks representing good and bad behavior, kind of like a report card for Santa. We even had our own elf, "Noel", who would call occasionally and speak to the children encouraging good behavior. Funny, his voice sounded oddly similar to Prince Charming's, only a little more nasal. ;) Rewards were given often, punishments admittedly less often. The rewards were big, the punishments little.

Despite the result of a sloppy looking Christmas Tree, the smell of a forgotten hidden Easter Egg, the wrinkled wrapping on a present or the slightly over-salted gravy for a birthday dinner, our children were always invited and encouraged to participate in the traditions of our families. Their history. We have started many new traditions ourselves from glittery poppers filled with surprises at the dining table to a "Family Cookbook" in which we write all of the favorite recipes together with a picture of the plate to be referred to in the future. Our own little piece of history.

It certainly wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. There were the nights when they didn't sleep and we thought we would lose our minds; the teething that resulted in a shrill we wished only the dog could hear; stubbed toes and bruised shins incurred while trying to navigate through the endless river of toys; gates blocking exits and entrances; braces, glasses, casts, detentions, spills and arguments. We've had more than our fair share of deaths, premature and sudden, and sickness that came as a complete shock. All of which could so easily have pulled us apart but instead brought us closer. As they get older, once again there are those nights with no sleep until we hear the key in the door followed by the creaking of the third step on the staircase, signaling their safe return, allowing us to breath and relax and sleep. We still worry. Always will. But the time has come where we have to have faith in our job as parents, their respect for us and the lessons and morals that we have instilled. And we do. Together as a family.

Together, as a family, we go on vacation, to Broadway shows, baseball games and parties.

Together, as a family, we argue, disagree, cry, laugh, plan and love.

Together.

As a family ;)

(My ~~children~~ "babies" are 16 and 19 and, to this day, kiss me and say "I love you" in front of their friends! Doesn't sound like a big deal but, trust me, it is!)

.

Mondays can bite me! and they usually do...

2010-09-20T15:48:00.005-04:00

(Sung beautifully to the Tune "New York, New York" too bad you can't hear me)

Start pouring the booze,

its been a long day

Right from the very start of it

Un-cork! Un-cork!

Started off with a bang

Alarm never rang

Had to rush to get son to school
Un-cork! Un-cork!

Not only was he late

It was class picture date

Bed head and sleep still in his eyes

Un-cork! Un-cork!

I wanna wake up in my Kingdom without all this *bleep*
(insert expletive of choice)

But because of Prince Charming's snore,

this Queen doesn't sleep!

Finally arrive home

Oh crap there's the phone

Father in law is coming by!

Un-cork! Un-cork!

The dog, he's got gas,

And Hubs is being an ass

Laundry piles way over my head

Uncork! Uncork!

Oh but wait, there's more!

if you're keeping score

The upstairs toilet over-flowed

Un-cork! Un-cork!

Why does it hit the fan all at once? The crap is knee deep. (literally)
So if you're looking for me?

I'm under the heap!

*at this time I am doing a rather impressive tap dance, Really. too bad you can't see me*

It's gone downhill from there

Have I mentioned my hair?

I mistook the hairspray for mousse

Uncork! Uncork!

And then there's the bruise

and in other news

My new white shirt is now tie dye

Un-cork! un-cork!

I have a headache, sore throat and fever that's very steep

But who takes care of the Mom?

I think I might weep!

*Arm to arm and kickline and Go!)

Monday morning blues,

With me why must you screw

I won't let you get the best of me

Uncork! Uncork!

Half the day is now through

It's a little past two

I hope that is the worst of it

Un-cork! Un-cork!

I probably should have given up and crawled back into bed

But good advice is not as easily taken

as it is said

So what to do?

UN-CORK! UN-CORK!!!!!!

Butts, Pimps and Wine and that's just one night!

2010-09-16T21:21:00.003-04:00

We. My girlfriends and I. Are bad asses.... well not really, but we are bad! .... okay we're asses, but enough with the technicalities.

The "gang" and I went out for dinner and a movie recently. Just us. The ladies. No men! No children!

I'll pause here for a minute to give you time to close your eyes and imagine.
{sounds of, well whatever sound imagination makes}

Deep Calming Breath. Big Wide Smile ...Got it? Can you feel it?
Doesn't that just bring happy tears to your eyes? Give you chills?
A bunch of women with no balls and chains, (not literally, well, yea, actually literally too!) and
no fighting, whining demanding children. Just other women, comrades, pals.

It had been a looooong Summer and everyone's schedules had them running in different directions making it difficult to see each other except for the last-minute, rushed I-really-need-a-glass-of-wine-baaaaad lunches, or quick hiney bumps on the occasion we found ourselves shopping at the same store. So we wanted to get together. We needed to get together. Hell, we would've been happy just sitting and gabbing on the corner together and that would've been fine too. Well that's not true either, we like our creature comforts. Besides, hot babes like us? Hanging on a corner? Imagine the swarms of men waving fans of money in our faces, wanting to buy us expensive things, calling us sexy names and telling us how perfect we were. Hmmmmmm......
"Hey ladies, next time, let's hang out on the corner!?"

So we went through the usual passing of emails, crossing of telephone calls, endless texts and stop bys until we were able to coordinate all of our schedules and eventually, miraculously, were able to settle on a date, time, restaurant AND movie! A long, exhausting process but well worth it! A. Ladies. Night.

As if just the novelty of a ladies night was not enough, naturally, we ordered wine with dinner. Well, duh! "Little Black Dress", fitting under the circumstances, dontcha' think? Wait, it gets better,... hold onto your hats! The waitress forgot to charge us for it!

Let's recap:

Ladies Night Out
No Balls and Chains
No Fighting, Whining, Demanding, Children
Dinner Cooked and Served By Someone Else
and.......
FREE WINE!
FREE.
WINE.

Had we died and gone to Heaven? If we did, we didn't care! We were drinking free wine together :)

Somehow we were able to regain our composure and ~~ran out of the restaurant for fear that the waitress might realize her mistake~~ gracefully gathered our belongings and exited the restaurant. The movie theater was just across the courtyard from the restaurant so we strolled along, cackling and snorting, the usual things a bunch of women out together do, until we reached the door at which time the Keeper of the Tickets handed each of us our voucher. I didn't tell you about the vouchers? With all the excitement, I must've gotten ahead of myself! Not only did we get free wine, but we saved oodles of money on our movie tickets. What?! Get Out! Mmhmmm... c'mon you can do the Victory Dance, you know you wanna! We did!

All this rejoicing had nothing to do with our ability to afford the wine or the tickets. Clearly we could. After all, I'm royalty, remember? Queen Momma, the tiara?, the proclamation:

They don't just give a touched-up, google image, cyber proclamation stating you are royalty to anyone you know! Generally I leave the tiara home when we go out. Don't want to draw a crowd and well, truthfully, I think it's a little ostentatious. I do, however, carry a copy of the proclamation, just in case. ;)

No, it had nothing to do with whether we could pay for the wine or the tickets, we didn't want to. It's a game, a challenge a goal! It was the principle! For example, we could have bought popcorn and soda and candy once we got into the theater also but, being mothers who food shop (or at least order from Peapod), much like the contestants on the Price Is Right, we are knowledgeable in the pricing of said staples. So, instead one of my girlfriends, we'll refer to her as "The Goody Smuggler" because well, because she ""smuggled goodies" into the theater. She's perfect for this assignment. After all, she has like a gazillion kids, she's used to lugging a bunch of crap around. She has a system. You want to know what type of goodies? Well there was

popcorn, complete with individual serving cups;
Dove chocolates. (only the best for royalty);
Biscotti (we're not fooling around here); and
Wine. Surely you're not shocked by this! Besides, all they sell at the counter is soda, which is so unhealthy for you ;)

*Note: We also call "The Goody Smuggler" "McGyver" in case you are trying to figure out the whole uncorking thing.

We're not just hot though. No, with these looks come brains too! We had it all worked out. If we were caught by the badge-wearing, flashlight wielding, pimple faced all important usher, we were going to remain calm and simply explain that it was one of ours birthday. Are we good or what? We were covered!

So, we ate, and drank and watched the movie, giggling when appropriate and even when not. The night ended the same way as it started with hugs and smiles (these smiles were a little drunkier than the one's earlier but just as sincere).

Tonight was another Ladies Night but an obligation kept me from joining them this time. It broke my heart to tell them I wouldn't be able to make it and clearly they were equally upset......until they realized it meant more wine for them! {sigh}

Love my girlfriends!

You wanna know the TRUTH?

2010-09-15T14:47:00.004-04:00

(Sung to "oompa loompa from Willy Wonka")

Ooooh Ahhhh Oooooh Ahhh, All that sappy goo
You're expecting a baby, so happy for you!
Ooh Ah Ooh Ah, Ha ha and hee hee
Notice no one mentions the poop and the pee?

What do you get with the birth of baby?
Giggles and cooing and bouncing on knees
Still no one mentions the projectile gook
Or the lack of sleep and its effects on your looks

Ooh Ah Ooh Ah, then come toddler years
Crawling and walking and tantrums with tears
Gates going up and cabinets are locked
My best advice Keep the wine cellar stocked!

Then we move on to the teenager years
driving and cursing and sneaking of beers
That's when they think that they know more than you

But give them time, they will see that's not true

Ooh Ah Ooh Ah now they're young adults
Minimal damage, noone joined a cult
Yes there was screaming and slamming of doors
Hey, if that's what it takes to protect what is yours

Sure there are days you want to pull out your hair
Look for an escape, it doesn't matter where
Dream of the days you were young and alone
Hide in the closet, don't answer the phone

...............oh, that was just me?

Ooh Ah Ooh Ah, But this I'll say is true
It will all be worth it to you
You will live in happiness too
Like the Oompa
Oompa Loompa doompadee do!!!!!!!

Oooh Oooh That Smell, Can't You Smell that Smell?

2010-09-07T13:59:00.007-04:00

While this blog is PG rated I give you my express permission to insert expletive language where you see fit! Hint: Try every other word!!

My first day of normalcy, now that Summer is over, the kids are back in school and work and Prince Charming has resumed his travel regimen, might not have gone EXACTLY as I had imagined.... My intentions were good, heroic almost. Score points for effort.

It started off magically. SOS got up with his alarm. That alone is cause for celebration in the Kingdom. After 60+ days of sleeping until Noon, miraculously, with no empty threats or expensive bribes from me, he got up, showered, groomed, gathered his necessities (phone, ipod, earplugs ... paper and pen? what for?) and was out of the house before 7am!! Is that a pig I see flying by my window?

Despite the fact that he is going into his Junior Year of High School, and quite capable of getting himself ready once he overcomes the obstacle of the alarm clock, I, the clingy, loving, over-protective mother that I am, decided to get up too, so as to support him, inspect him, kiss him and wave frantically from the front door as he wait for the bus (next year he'll be driving!, sigh) because I knew deep down inside, even if he wouldn't admit it, that he wanted me to and, had I not, his day would be lacking a certain je ne sais quoi? Warmth? love? embarrassment? So, when I heard him get out of the shower, I flew out of bed, powdered my nose (Beauty Tip: powdering nose is a quick fix that takes the attention away from bedhead, dried drool and crusty eyes) and positioned my crown atop my head, while humming a happy tune and headed down the stairs to the cucina to prepare some porridge, no wait, wrong fairy tale.... an egg and orange juice. Which he did not eat. Which angered me. A little. I mean I got out of bed. Just for you. I know you didn't ask me to. But I did. ... okay, over it, but see if I do that tomorrow! I will. Out the door he went.
Prince Charming came down next, rushing to make his plane. Lovingly, I insisted he eat the egg that I had prepared just for him, being the good wife that I am ;) .... he ate it, kissed me goodbye and out the door he went.

Lastly came DDA, my daughter for whom college started last week but who's first day back at work was today (she works at a high school while going to school full time. Yes, I am very proud) ... She grabs a quick snack and runs out the door, screaming "goodbye, love you!".

Silence.

In my mind I had an agenda. Well thought out and carefully calculated. Mistake No. 1.

Hold on.
Give me a minute.......

SILENCE!!! *Deep cleansing breath*

Okay, where was I? Agenda, right.

First on the list: Put away groceries that were delivered...Oh, Sweet Merciful Crap! Mistake No. 2.

It might have helped if I had actually submitted my Peapod Order and didn't just fill up my shopping cart and leave it, stranded in it's cyber aisle, perishables and all. Shouldn't there be someone in charge of stranded carts? You know, a stranded-cart-monitor or something? Surely they could find someone who'd love that job. They could even wear a badge, you know real important. The time saved by not having to physically go to the food store, trek down each aisle, peruse the specials and then impatiently wait on line behind the Dutchess of Coupons and Gossiping Gertrude was going to afford me the extra time I needed for everything else I had planned on accomplishing, not to mention sparing me from the temptations that would sabotage my efforts of getting back into shape after what one might refer to as an overindulgent Summer. So I picked a new delivery time for tomorrow as an attempt to salvage the rest of my plans. It's not as though the cupboards are empty. Okay, they are. It was a long weekend! The teens won't starve! Trust me. When it comes to food, much like a blood hound on the scent of um, blood, my kids have a sixth sense, not to mention what they have stored away for winter hibernation.

After cursing out Peapod, because clearly their lack of a stranded-cyber-cart-monitor had thrown a monkey wrench into my schedule, I decided to chalk this one up to unavoidable inconvenience and move on to the next thing on my mental list. Very mature of me dontcha think? Maybe not the cursing part but the whole moving on thing...

What followed next can only be referred to as a series of unfortunate events, only these were real, not fictional stories. Simply put, Mistakes No. 3-7.

Since it was so quiet, the house being empty and all, I heard the garbage men coming down the block. Having cleaned out the refrigerator for the food that wasn't being delivered, naturally I had a bag full of ~~old moldy food~~ undesirable leftovers (which, had I known Peapod wasn't coming, I would have scraped off and tried to get another meal out of. Geez, I'm kidding! ... ?) I thought it best to get it out today because really who wants a garbage bag of food sitting around for 5 days? The stench of rotten eggs, decaying meat, spoiled ... oh, you haven't eaten yet? I'm sorry... hey, I may have just saved you some calories! You're welcome.

And that is when my day went completely sour, both figuratively and literally.

Okay, rewind a minute. sekam dniwer dnuos eht si sihT (That's is the sound rewind makes.)

The garbage truck sounded very close.
So I ran.
Out the front door.
Humongous garbage bag full of foul smelling food in my arms.
On to the stoop.
That housed the dogs chain.
That wrapped around my ankle.
That caused me to stumble.
That sent me flying.
Into the air.
Then down.
Into the bushes.
Had the garbage bag landed first it would have cushioned my fall.
It did not.
Instead, I cushioned it.
So there I sat.
Covered in rancid food.

When the truck pulled up, I gracefully stood, arms in air as if I had planned this gymnastic maneuver and this was my flawless dismount.

I was pretty certain they didn't suspect a thing ;)

Until I went inside and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I've given new meaning to the term "spaghetti curls".

(I suggest you insert a very long, very loud string of profanities here)

My husband offered them $10,000 to keep me!

2010-09-05T14:04:00.000-04:00

The Next Martha is My Guest Blogger clapping hands

2010-08-27T09:37:00.004-04:00

Well, as you can imagine, after Blogher10 @TheNextMartha has her swagger on so, despite my wit and charm, it still took some "buttering" up to get her to guest blog for me. Under normal circumstances she would have been begging to guest for me but, thanks to that ego-feeding, blogger-bonding, cult-like event held in NY, my hometown, a couple of weeks ago, @TheNextMartha believes that she can name her price. So, as accommodating as I am, I did not allow her to stop at just 2 cakes, I insisted that she was worth at least 5 cakes ...chocolate...which I begrudgingly ate. I suffered for you, my readers!

While I understand her neighbor the "Martha Project" apparently has self-control ~~that Bitch~~ and simultaneously insists on "over-indulging" poor @TheNextMartha, I have to say, that that is a cat fight I would not mind being in the middle of.... For crying out loud, on one hand, you are either the sexy, skinny bitch or on the other the fat, dumb and happy, slob..... Either way you win!

She's not only funny and smart, she bakes! @TheNextMartha, the house next door to me is for sale, PLEASE move in... you are a neighbor I wouldn't mind having! And, I thank you, once again, for guest-blogging.....

Without further adieu (I use that term because I'm part french... no I'm not really, that's a lie) ... I bring you, @TheNextMartha! :

I WAS AN IMPORT

By @TheNextMartha

Recently someone asked my husband “So you met your wife at your college” and he replied “Oh, no, you can’t get a woman that hot there, she was an import.” You see this was true. We met at a jr. college but then HE transferred to a top 10 school in the country. I also went to a “10” school but it was under the “Big 10” umbrella and not quite as prestigious as his “Smart top 10” school. Whatever. I was just happy to be going to a college that wasn’t in the same state that I had grown up in all my life. So though we had met going to school together we transferred to different schools in different states.

This mostly worked for us as we took turns visiting each other once a month. Coming to my school was not really a big deal and he fit in like any other student. When I went there though, there always seemed to be this aura of “oh, she doesn’t go here because she looks happy and god knows we study too much here to ever be happy.”

I was fine with that because I didn’t talk about how the tree in the middle of the courtyard symbolized the strength of the mind and brains would grow and seek knowledge from the surrounding buildings and those buildings would often heave their limestone at you so that you acknowledge that they are the mighty knowledge foundation of all civilization.

What the hell was that sentence? Exactly. I just wanted to eat a ham sandwich and call it a day. I just didn’t “get” those students at his college. As far as I was concerned General Hospital was just as great at teaching me everything I needed to know those years. There were a few times when this was so obvious that it still makes me laugh.

One time in the bathroom a girl started talking to me about her mid terms of this and that. (Insert me thinking Mmmm Ham sandwich here) She then turned to me and asked me about mine and instead of even trying to fit in I just said “Oh, I don’t go here, I’m an import.”

-Stares at me

-Turns

-Leaves

(Side Note: The word “Gravitates” was just said in my kitchen. Who ARE these people?)

(Another side note: I totally spelled that word wrong and thank god for spell check)

Ok so this chick in the bathroom obviously just labeled me “idiot” and deemed me not suitable for any more words.

Another time we were invited to hang out with some people in his building. This building was a condo type student residence so they were larger and fully furnished by the school. This was going to be a game night. At most schools this would involve ping pong balls, or maybe quarters and definitely alcohol. Not this time folks. They meant business. We were there to play Pictionary. Real Pictionary, like with the ACTUAL rules.

There was some small talk beforehand and the conversation had turned to the furnishings. They had started to poke fun of the couches and curtains and such. I being the future @TheNextMartha looked around and agreed that they were indeed more suited to the color blind and those who may or may not be wearing depends. Wanting to fit in to a conversation that I could FINALLY relate to I decided to give my two decorating cents.

Me: “Right, like look at that lamp, I mean how ugly is that?”

Her: “That’s mine, I brought it from home”

*P.S. This is original, one-of-a-kind artwork by @TheNextMartha. If you are ~~drunk enough to want~~ interested in obtaining a copy for yourself, one of your ~~unsuspecting~~ relatives or for the bottom of your pet's litter boxes I will use my "in" with her and see what I can do! ;)

Hey, you!.... Wanna get into bed with me? ;)

2010-08-24T23:00:00.005-04:00

I spent a lot of time just sitting today, ~~eating bon bons~~ doing, well, nothing frankly...

It has been torrentially pouring on and off for two days now and a combination of allergies and a cold has crippled me with the queen of all headaches (me being Queen Momma and all);

My ears are clogged, creating a deep humming noise, much like when I stick my fingers in them and... well... ummm..... hum, if I don't want or care to hear what someone is saying, well not YOU, never YOU, those other people, which makes watching tv or listening to music quite difficult;

My throat is sore disabling me from carrying on any meaningful ~~gossip~~ or stimulating conversation; and

My nose is raw from excessive sneezing and wiping, removing the desire or temptation to eat or snack.

You might say, I am in a symptom-induced time out. But. Believe it or not? I'm enjoying it! Kind of like when we send our kids to their rooms as a punishment and all they have are their computers, tvs and gaming systems. Wait, what? Maybe THAT's what I'm doing wrong?!

I have been forced to observe everything around me. Those things that on any other day would be overlooked strictly because we are too busy or preoccupied to notice.

For starters, despite sleeping on it for months, for the first time, I felt the softness of the down feather pillow beneath my head as I lay in bed taking in the cozy and cheerful bedroom that my husband and I designed and decorated together (well mostly me);

I watched the sun rise as it poured through the large window at the end of the hall.... okay that's a lie, I was still very much asleep ~~and drooling~~ ~~What? I have a cold!~~ at that hour and, if you've been paying any attention at all I've already said that it's "been torrentially pouring on and off for two days".

The raindrops on the roof comforted me with their gentle pitter, patter bringing back tickling memories of the sounds of my childrens footprints when they were little, scurrying here and there, only to be interrupted by the loud clash of thunder and lightning, reminding me that they are now teenagers (you like that symbolism there, pretty accurate, huh?)

Somewhere between the dirty looks and snide remarks passed between my son and daughter which, due to my clogged ears I could not hear but were, let's just say, easily lip read, I caught a glimpse of an understanding smile, a glimmer of caring, dare I say sibling camaraderie?

Every color was more vivid. Every touch was more stimulating. It was as though I was looking through a magnifying glass. A magnifying glass which, I could have done without when it magnified the oddly shaped stain on the rug, the irreparable rip on the chair and the hideous wrinkle on my..... shirt, yes! my shirt, there was a darn wrinkle on my shirt.....

I needed this. I needed to take the time to smell the roses, well, no that's not right, actually I couldn't smell anything...

I needed this. I needed a taste of .... well, no, that's not right either..I couldn't taste anything....

I needed this. I needed to tell.... crap, that's wrong too......

Ah, hell..... I needed to stay in my damn bed with my soft down feather pillow in my cozy, cheerful bedroom doing absolutely nothing!

And that's what I did. ...... All day.

Friggit!, I think my ear just popped!

What's your fun ratio?

2010-08-22T21:06:00.001-04:00

I have come to the realization that with age, the ratio of fun to exhaustion doubles yearly.

1 Hour of Fun = 2 hours Exhaustion x Age

Friday night Prince Charming and I assumed the roles of host and hostess and had a group of old friends over for a "wine ~~drinking~~ tasting party". We love to entertain, always have, and nothing NOTHING is too good for our guests.

So the wheels turned and I went into party planning mode. Squee! This is going to be so much fun!

Plastic grapes, tuscan patterned party goods and a wine cage FULL of different wines from various vineyards, grapes, countries. There was red, white, pink...shiraz, merlot, pinots!

Next onto the food. Think wine party. Tuscany! (I'm anal that way everything has to have a theme; gifts, parties, decor) Baked brie, assorted nuts, fruit, paninis, dips, chips and crackers. And CHOCOLATE! When drinking wine there must always be chocolate!

Light the candles! Turn on the music! Uncork the wine! Let the party begin! Salute!

Our guests arrived. Hugs were sincere. Kisses were aplenty. Everyone was genuinely happy to see each other. It had been too long. But, as if it were yesterday, we fell right into comfortable conversation, reminiscing about the past, sharing the present and planning for the future. We drank wine, ate hors doeuvres ~~drank wine~~, laughed until our stomach's hurt ~~drank wine~~ and then drank some more wine. We truly had a blast. It felt like old times when we were younger and partying together all weekend long.

Until Saturday morning.

We were tired.. Not hungover, no, we're pretty seasoned in that regard! ;) We were completely physically and emotionally exhausted. Our throats were raw from talking so much, our eyes begged us for a few more hours of closure and muscles we didn't know we had ached (for reasons we couldn't explain.... and wouldn't even if we could) .....

It's Sunday now and, while we are more energetic than we were yesterday, sitting on the couch in comfy clothes is suiting us just fine. One of my girlfriends called to say she had a wonderful time and that she was planning to have the next get-together..... A Beerfest!

We've got 2 weeks to rest up ;) Salute!

2010-08-11T22:46:00.001-04:00

Some very good friends and I went to Blogher10, sorta!
Thanks to The Next Martha! ;)

I have a confession to make.....

2010-08-11T12:34:00.002-04:00

I have a confession to make....

Maybe here is not the most appropriate place to do it but ...

It's taken me a while to gather up the nerve ..

There's no turning back so, here goes:

There is something about you that makes me do things I thought I never would.

I have lied to the people I love.

I've hidden you from my children. In the closet. Under the bed.

I've skipped lunches with my girlfriends and dinners with my family just to have time with you.

I've walked miles and driven hours just to find you.

You add a certain excitement, a certain spice to my life that nothing else can.

I need you in my life.

There, I've said it.

Now, COME TO MAMMA!!

No need of a laxative here....

2010-08-10T23:09:00.005-04:00

I don't know what direction this post is going to take.

I have no topic in mind. No satirical story to embarrass my family. No tale to tell.

I've just decided to sit and type off the top of my head.

(Well the tips of my fingers if we're getting technical but you know what I mean.)

I'm going to delve deep inside myself and share the inner workings of my mind with you.

I may, perhaps, even surprise myself.......

(sounds of crickets chirping)

Well, this is embarrassing..

Still nothing....

::squinting eyes, grunting, applying pressure to my abdomen::

oh, wait, that's not the kind of concentration I need now.

::puts newspaper down::

I've been very conscientious of my fiber intake these days.

Let me try another approach.

I'll will my brain to think.

Like those times when I was younger and I tried that mental-telepathy thingy where you stare at a spoon to see if you have the power to bend it.....

Nope, not a thing... It didn't work then either.

Shhhh, I need to focus.

Dammit.

Is it too late to change my mind?

Okay, If I'm being honest, my first response is to cry.

Not because I'm a sad.

No, actually I'm really quite happy.

But. As life would have it. When you let your mind free.

When you really let go. The serious stuff sneaks up.

The things you don't really want to recollect on a daily basis.

They are the first things to rear their ugly heads when you let your guard down.

I'm not really surprised....

As you may or may not know, 4 years ago I had cancer and 4 months ago was diagnosed with a recurrence. The doctor's are optimistic, and I am determined but, naturally, it was a blow and, needless to say is the ~~hairy, smelly, mean~~ 500 lb gorilla in the room that is my life.

It would be ridiculous to tell you that it isn't on my mind everyday because it is.

From the moment I open my eyes.

It is, unfortunately, a huge part of me.

But I can tell you that I will not allow it to consume me; and it will not define me!

I've surprised myself. If you had told me 4 years ago that I would ever be happy again, let alone function at all, I would have laughed, or cried, but I wouldn't have believed you.

I went through the anger, the pity, and the "why me?"

I worried if I would ever laugh again;

if I would see my children grow up, get married and have families of their own.

I asked myself how many more Christmas', birthdays and anniversaries I would celebrate.

I saw for the first time, things that I'd seen thousands of times before:

flowers, clouds, faces and wondered if it would be the last.

I felt the guilt of causing my family such sorrow; and the fear of defeat.

I went through the whole gambit of emotions and, truthfully, still do.

But I let myself.

I laugh. I cry. I shop.

And then I pull myself up by the bootstraps

(that's just a metaphor 'cause it's Summer now and it'd be kinda strange if I was actually wearing boots),

remind myself of what I have and never want to lose

and vow that I will do whatever it takes to keep them.

And I'm taking the time to smell the roses,

the coffee and all that other

Sweet Merciful Crap!

Boy, that'll teach me to think too much ....

Are you there God? It's Me, Queen Momma.....

2010-08-09T11:39:00.003-04:00

Don't be jealous, but recently, I got to spend not one but two entire days at the DMV!
I know, I know, awesome right?

Hell. No!

As if taking my son, my baby, to get his Learner's Permit wasn't heart-wrenching and nerve-racking enough, I then had to deal with the "red tape" that goes along with the process. Those jokes you hear. About the DMV. They're not jokes! And they are not funny. They are merely facts that, in retrospect are so absurd you just have to laugh.

My son, having been born in the United States, naturally acquired a Social Security card/number at birth which we, Prince Charming and I, responsibly packed away with all the other "important documents" until such time as this wee little baby would need it. We of course, noted the number and kept it in our wallets if by chance we ever had to refer to it. Which we did when we applied for Passports. No problem. We retrieved the number, transcribed it on the application, and were issued Passports. Done.

In the days approaching my son's 16th birthday, the day on which a NY teen is eligible to get his learners permit; while he responsibly studied the rules and regulations of the road, I gathered the necessary documentation for the application and test . Prince Charming, apparently having stowed it away so securely, however, was unable to locate the Social Security card.

No sweat! We have the SS number, his Birth Certificate, working papers and Passport! Surely, that would be enough........

Not.

We drove all the way to the DMV. Okay it's only a couple of miles up the road but I wasn't headed in that direction. Treked up the 40 or so steps to the building (that is not an exxageration!) (ok, maybe a little) walked through security; withstood the embarrassment of the alarm going off because of my belt; was then consequently subjected to the wand search; eventually dismissed; and ultimately forced to sprint down the hall so as to make the 3:30 deadline. We made it! We were next in line! I whispered to my son to push the hair out of his face and smile widely, surely we would charm the attendee. We caught our breath and confidently approached the desk only to be told, not too nicely, that despite all the other documentation, he wasn't allowed to take the test without a Social Security card. I turned in a huff, stormed off, and muttered something like "Idiots!".... yeah, that's right, be scared!

Honestly, I'm all for the "err on the side of caution", and "safety first", blah-blah-blah.... but let me get this straight....

You can get a Passport with a birth certificate and Social Security Number (no card needed) BUT you can't get your Learner's permit unless you have the actual Social Security card.....

Hmmmmm, in other words,

You can travel to any country, on any airline, with anybody, and even cash traveler's checks BUT you cannot operate a car accompanied by a parent?

Ahem, I'm sorry, but am I the only one who sees something wrong with this picture?

A couple of days passed, due to prior obligations, but I had researched, via google, the know-all, tell-all miracle on the internet, where, when and how to obtain a new social security card. So, with teen in tow, I drove to the address I was given which, surprise surprise, was inaccurate. We returned to the car, headed toward the correct building and easy-peasy obtained a temporary social security card. All that was required to do so was the number we already had and my photo i.d.

Note: It is easier to obtain a social security card and/or a passport than it is a learners permit! ? (are you with me here?)

We then head directly to the DMV, go through the whole drive-40steps-security-alarm-wand (Yes, I wore a belt again! shoot me!) rigmarole; are told that the temporary card is acceptable and sit and wait for our number to light up on the screen in front of us, much like a BINGO board. In fact, when it finally did, I had to contain myself from jumping up and shouting, that's where my head was at. We were then directed to the testing room; teen went inside and I was told to wait in the "waiting area", hence the name! Ironically, the benches in the room resembled church pews, and the other parents waiting all sat silently with their heads down. I took this as a sign and proceeded to pray:

Dear God, It's me, Queen Momma, if this is what he wants, please guide my son through this test; eventually give him the necessary skills and sense to be a careful and defensive driver; and, keep him, his passengers and other driver's safe from harm. Amen

Oh,...... and God,..... just one more thing, Can you send his father to DMV with him when he has to schedule his road test?! Puhleeeaasssee!!

And, this is one of the reasons they call me "Queen" ......

2010-07-28T13:05:00.004-04:00

Hurry, hurry, emergency!
Don't get in the way of me
I'm in a hurry can't you see
What is your problem? Stupidity?

People, people everywhere!
Don't they realize, don't they care
It's so frustrating, pulling out my hair
Don't they see I must get there?

Hitting every traffic light
This isn't fair, this isn't right
Give me strength, give me might!
Don't they understand my plight?

Catch my breath, try to relax
Can't lose control, I cannot crack
Ok, calm down, get back on track
Let's go over all the facts

I need that thing, there is no doubt
But I'll be strong, I will not pout
I will not cry I won't freakout
I may be mad though, so lookout!

I need to get there before the rest
I'd be ever thankful, I'd feel so blessed
Since I saw it I've been obsessed
Am I being put to the test?

The lesson here is clear and true
If you find something you love here's what to do
Your shopping cart put it into
Or someone else will, and you'll be blue

I made it! Now into the store
Push the button on the auto-door
Then run across the shopping floor
To find it's not there, there are no more!

Sadly I turn and walk away
Trying to hide my sheer dismay
I didn't think it would turn out this way
Oh, well I guess it's not my day

But suddenly it caught my eye
It couldn't be, I thought I'd cry
Went from the lowest low to highest high
I found the thing I had to buy!

I walked toward it at a steady pace
Had to get there, it was a race
Did someone else see it? just in case.
(Damn I wish I'd bought some mace)

I wasn't safe till it was in my cart
I was racing, as was my heart
Had to be coy, had to be smart
If necessary use martial arts!

I grabbed it up before she could
I got there first, I felt so good!
I won the race, I knew I would
I won the prize, she understood!

So now it's mine, that thing I own
Put it in my cart and brought it home
Around my house with it I roam
I stopped to write this little poem

Not really sure what to do with it
In the corner of the room it sits
But it doesn't matter, not one bit
'Cause I won the race, I did not quit!

My Trash BUCKET LIST

2010-07-21T08:15:00.008-04:00

I have decided to clean out, clear away, simplify .... not the attic, not my closet or the junk drawer (although they certainly could use it), my head...I am going to unclutter my messy mind (I said "messy", not dirty!). I'll be pulling up the ole trash bucket and throwing away what isn't important, what wastes my time, what I haven't used (and trust me, I haven't used much of my brain lately. Wait, what?) In fact, I'm thinking, as a bonus during this process I might even find that part of my mind that I've lost! Wouldn't   that    just    be    SU-PER!

There is so much going on in my head at one time, keeping track of anything is a major challenge. Ask me to name any one thing (or child for that matter) and I honestly couldn't tell you! I can't stay focused. I get distracted. My mind stumbles and falls over so many thoughts, by the time I get upstairs I've forgotten what it was I went up there for.

Let me be clear though, I will not be throwing away any memories, good or bad; any dreams already realized or still a vision; or any ideas, creativity or imagination. Oh no! Those are all keepers! That is my "collection of valuables". They are the strokes on the canvas that is me, my life, my story.   It's the unimportant, petty, ridiculous things that I'll be tossing in the can. I've become overwhelmed, I'm frazzled. There is more "stuff" in my mind than space to store it, so I'm downsizing!

I'm sure some of you reading this are thinking what a "ditz", "nut job", "wacko" while making all sorts of facial and hand gestures; and, in some respects you might be right. After all, I am a 40++,   natural ~~out of the bottle~~ blonde, mother of two teenagers. I worked hard for and proudly accept each of those titles. But, for now, this is my Trash "Bucket List". I will be tossing in the can the following:

The guilt of counting calories. I will allow myself the pleasures of a treat. Life is meant to be enjoyed. I am entitled to each and every one of those pretzel M&Ms (get your hand out of that bag!);

The obsessing over a mess causing me to miss out on the memories in the making. The beds will eventually get made and the dishes cleaned (still by me, of course, but not until later);

The shame of laughing or crying. They are the expressions of life and should be shared, not to mention the cause for each of those "laugh lines" on my face. Each moment that warrants these types of reactions are not meant to be smoldered. I will, however, try not to snort TOO loudly, I still have my pride you know;

The desire or need to be perfect. (Well, considering the three previous toss aways, this is pretty much a given since I'll obviously be a chubby, messy, blubbering idiot);

The concern about what other people think. Life is too short to worry about that. I will sing when I want to and dance if I choose. (Make room Beyonce!) I have learned to love myself!

The fear of letting go and taking chances, simply because I may never get that chance again;

The worry about the past or the future. I will not waste another second worrying about what might have been or what will be. I will, instead, enjoy every minute of every today. I have learned not to worry about what might come next.

Ahhhhhhh, I feel better already! Now, if only I could remember where I put that Trash Bucket :\

2010-07-20T11:28:00.003-04:00

Hey! Guess who's blogger of the week over at http://www.littleelfs.com/ <3 ... Me! That's who!!

(walking away now with a cocky swagger :) )

Don't I know you!?

2010-07-20T09:02:00.004-04:00

Surely, I'm not the only person who talks to them self in the mirror? Certainly, you have those moments when you are the only company you seek or desire. Or, perhaps you are simply not as charming and captivating as I am and therefore have not fallen into the trap.

Every morning when I look in the mirror, after it goes through the whole

" You are the fairest of them all"

routine which it insists on doing every time, despite it being oh-so-obvious, I discuss my plans, my goals, my hopes, my dreams.... Oh, who am I kidding? I don't discuss any of those things. Who the hell do you think I am? friggin Snow White?

C'mon in what universe can someone talking to themselves in a mirror be a good thing. Let me give you a hint, NONE! Of course someone with multi-personalities might do this quite often but, in essence, they are not really talking to themselves because they think they are someone else, in which case they are talking to others, even though they're not really, because they are one and ...

Enough of that, let's get back to me....

No, when I talk to myself in the mirror, be warned! It's not going to be a tea party and no guests are welcome. It just means that whatever I have to say ~~scream~~ is better left between me, myself and I.... Less drama to deal with later, tears saved, feelings spared and no eyes rolled; not to mention I'm always right! In fact, some of my most interesting and entertaining conversations I've had have been with myself. I'm really quite the intellect and have a wonderful sense of humor. If I wasn't me, I'd want to be my friend. Really.

The topics I discuss with me vary from day-to-day, usually having to do with the family. Sometimes good, sometimes bad and always interesting. Who's doing what? What wasn't done? How could they? Why did they? When will they? How much? Who with? Why Me? .... Of course there are the days, though few and far between, when I just critique myself, because,quite frankly, I'm practically perfect. Well, I'm pretty good. Alright, I talk to myself in the mirror for goodness sakes! I'm obviously in need of some help!

BUT, I AM the fairest of them all, my mirror told me so! ;)

This Is Not What I Ordered!!!

2010-07-19T15:59:00.002-04:00

No matter how hard I try, life can't be funny all the time .....

I want to scream, sometimes, loudly

The kind of loud that hurts your ears

The kind of loud that gets attention

The kind of loud that draws a crowd

I want to cry, sometimes, hard

The kind of hard that overcomes you

The kind of hard that takes your breath

The kind of hard that hurts your head

I want to run, sometimes, far and fast

The kind of fast the can't be caught

The kind of far that can't be found

The kind of run that leaves behind

This isn't what I ordered

This isn't how I planned it

This isn't what I wanted

But I can't, There's something stopping me

The kind of something that can't be seen

The kind of something that conquers all

The kind of something shared by family

Instead I whisper, softly

The kind of whisper that says "I love you"

The kind of whisper that means "I'm here"

The kind of soft that soothes the soul

Instead, I smile, always

The kind of smile that shows I'm happy

The kind of smile my children cause

The kind of smile that can't be broken

Instead I remain, hopeful

The kind of hopeful that is strong

The kind of hopeful that is determined

The kind of hopeful that saves us all

This isn't what I ordered

This isn't what I planned

But, this isn't going to beat me

I've got a new blog button!!

2010-07-19T14:27:00.001-04:00

✿ Sweet Merciful Crap & other things! ღ

Um, Excuse me? Are you going to finish that?

You're invited to my birthday party! I'm going to be ...

Forgive me Nanny, for I have Blogged ("Nanny" being strictly ficticious of course! he, he ..... he?)

Quit yer squirming and get in the dang pot!

Warm feet ~ Warm thoughts ~ Warm heart

Getting back on the bicycle.. please run along side me. Just. In. Case. ;)

Queen Momma's starring in her own reality show!

Trust me, it's a big deal!

Mondays can bite me! and they usually do...

Butts, Pimps and Wine and that's just one night!

You wanna know the TRUTH?

Oooh Oooh That Smell, Can't You Smell that Smell?

My husband offered them $10,000 to keep me!

The Next Martha is My Guest Blogger *clapping hands*

Hey, you!.... Wanna get into bed with me? ;)

What's your fun ratio?

I have a confession to make.....

No need of a laxative here....

Are you there God? It's Me, Queen Momma.....

And, this is one of the reasons they call me "Queen" ......

My Trash BUCKET LIST

Hey! Guess who's blogger of the week over at http://www.littleelfs.com/ <3 ... Me! That's who!!

(**walking away now with a cocky swagger :) **)

Don't I know you!?

This Is Not What I Ordered!!!

I've got a new blog button!!

The Next Martha is My Guest Blogger clapping hands

(walking away now with a cocky swagger :) )